


Cold Comfort

by Esperata



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Rape, Suicidal Thoughts, there's a lot of crying in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:06:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Oswald should be riding high. He's King of Gotham and his greatest threat is frozen in a block of ice. He should have known that he was only riding to a fall.Rated E for the first chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

Tears clung glistening to Oswald’s eyelashes as he stared up at the frozen form of Ed, hand still outstretched reaching for Oswald. He desperately wished he could reach back.

His first time wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be with his one true love – with Edward. His teeth ground together as he clenched his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think about the situation he was in but it hurt worse when his mind turned to Ed and how it might have been.

Initially he’d fought – he’d fought _so_ hard. He’d screamed and bitten, kicked and twisted, but the man had caught him by surprise giving him an unprecedented advantage. With no weapon to hand and his arms restrained, Oswald simply didn’t have the strength to overpower him. Still he had kept on struggling until he’d felt the tearing pain that signalled it was too late and he had lost.

Now he just felt strangely detached from everything that was happening to him. Even the sharp pain had ceased to hold his attention. It had all become something of an abstract problem – a hypothetical conundrum that his mind was briefly turning over. Punishments would be due to whoever had hired this particular bouncer for his club. He’d oversee hiring of new staff himself in the future.

A part of him also realised he should be considering the intricate tortures he would inflict on his attacker once he was free to exact revenge but his brain kept skittering away from the thought. To think on it made him focus on the act currently taking place and he couldn’t bring himself to think of it.

Instead he found himself contemplating the ice beside him and opened his eyes to stare upwards again. Wouldn’t it be poetic if he joined Ed in his frozen state? He’d felt before that he’d sealed part of himself in the ice with Ed. Now he could almost feel the crawl of cold cutting his body off from all outside sensations. It was a welcome feeling.

Did Ed feel this numb? If he could only be left alone, frozen forever with Edward…

The sudden warm splatter surprised him back to reality. His first instinctual relief that it was over, and that the man had at least pulled out before finishing, shattered as his sluggish brain caught up and he recognised the sound he’d heard as a gunshot. Then the body was falling away from him causing him to hiss as it left him cold and exposed.

“Boss!” Zsasz’s voice suddenly brought a vivid awareness back to him and he started shivering uncontrollably.

He had been violated… _raped_. Tears were coursing down his cheeks and he wondered when he’d started crying. He pressed his face into the ice sculpture, finding the comfort in the cruel cold, knowing it would freeze his tears and sooth his burning shame. All he wanted then was to crawl into the ice and wrap himself up in the frozen embrace of the only man he’d ever loved.

There were sounds of more shots being fired behind him. The dull thumps of flesh being blown apart told Oswald that Zsasz was exacting his own sort of retribution. He couldn’t bring himself to look on his abuser though, even to see him mutilated, and continued to press his face against the smooth ice.

In the ensuing silence he found his thoughts drifting again. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. He wanted to curl up and pretend nothing had happened. The knowledge that Zsasz had dealt with the man meant that surely he could do that. Only Zsasz knew and he wouldn’t say anything. Perhaps if this was never mentioned again, he could forget it. He could make it like this night had never happened.

The sound of a knife swishing was followed by a rush of blood back into his constricted arms and he vaguely realised Zsasz had sliced his jacket open to free him. He wondered if he should be angry about that, then grimaced as he recognised that he would be destroying anything that reminded him of tonight.

A warm heavy weight suddenly draped itself over him and he started before identifying the sensation as a coat.

“Come on boss. Let’s get you up.”

Oswald clutched the edges of the coat and pulled it tighter as he forced his trembling legs to straighten. He kept his eyes averted, his cheeks flushing as he felt his pants drop the rest of the way to the floor and blood dribble down the inside of his leg. Zsasz seemed completely unfazed though and simply knelt down to pull them back up and fasten them.

“We should get you to a hospital.”

“No!” Oswald’s gaze finally snapped to Zsasz. “I don’t need a hospital.”

Zsasz looked unruffled as ever which Oswald found immensely calming. As long as he kept his eyes away from the blood and chunks of flesh now littering the floor he could pretend this was nothing out of the usual.

“You’re bleeding,” Zsasz pointed out rationally. “And I’m not sure the first aid kit will have something for that kind of injury.”

Oswald drew himself together.

“If I go to a hospital everyone will know what happened.” He darted his eyes back to the base of the ice sculpture. “No-one can know. _No-one_. Do you understand me?”

Zsasz pursed his lips.

“What about Ivy? She’s going to know something’s up when we get back to the mansion.”

“I suffered minor injuries in a foolish attack.” Oswald envisaged the possible scenario and clung to it. A lowlife bruising his arms while demanding money. Kicking at his legs to prevent pursuit. Yes, it sounded plausible to explain his visible injuries. “She doesn’t need to know more than that.”

“Whatever you say boss.”

“Good.” Oswald took a shaky step, feeling shooting pains that harshly reminded him where else he was injured but he swallowed down his gasp and took another step. After all, he was used to living with pain. This would hardly be any different.


	2. Chapter 2

Ivy had been alarmed to see Oswald leaning heavily on Zsasz when they finally returned to the mansion and demanded to know what had happened. It was all Oswald could do not to scream in futile anguish at her questioning. He did not want to think about it. Her persistence was grating at his crumbling defences and he could feel his bottled up anger turn in her direction. Anything to stop the push of memories.

Zsasz was efficient as ever though and easily explained Penguin’s probable injuries with a brief cover story of a drugged up employee after the club’s takings. Oswald didn’t look at Ivy during the explanation. He didn’t care if she believed it, only that she stop talking about it.

Whether Ivy accepted the story or not, she immediately declared he would need a herbal bath to properly treat the bruised skin and abused muscles, not to mention sooth his wounded pride. He followed her quietly and allowed himself to relax slightly as she began preparing the bath, talking all the while about what she was using. Arnica for the bruising, aloe vera for its analgesic qualities, turmeric to prevent infection and coconut oil to prevent scarring.

His silence and withdrawn attitude disturbed her far more than his obvious injuries. She wasn’t dumb and knew there was more they weren’t telling her. For now though she was willing to let him get away with his secret, confident she’d find out the truth soon enough. Still she was perhaps a tad excessive in her mixture but sensing how evasive they were being she opted for covering her bases.

She also made sure to explain what each herb did, just in case Oswald wanted to seek them out on his own later. And when he was finished in the bath she told him she’d have a cup of honey tea ready for him.

It wasn’t until they left him alone in the hot soothing water that everything crashed back in on him. He didn’t deserve Ivy’s kindness. Her actions were so reminiscent of his mother’s as well and the thought of her knowing how her son had been despoiled tore at his guts. He leant over the side of the tub to retch bringing up nothing but the alcohol he’d been drinking earlier that evening.

He started trembling uncontrollably and clenched his teeth as the tears broke free. The instinctive response to curl into a ball overwhelmed him again but as he did so he felt shooting pains from both his damaged leg and more recently torn injury. He cried even harder and pressed his hands to his face as he sank down into the water. Maybe it would be easier to let the water wash everything away. Perhaps if he sank under the surface, and stayed still long enough, it would eventually freeze and he could be with Ed again.

His body broke the surface despite him with a gasp for air and he sat back upright, wrapping his arms round his good knee brought close to his chest. It was impossible now to feel which tracks on his face were tears and which were scented water. He sat still, shivering in spite of the steamy water lapping round him.

The feeling of disgust brought bile back up into his throat and he reached desperately for the soap, beginning to scrub at himself. He could see the water changing colour as he washed the dirt from his skin and it brought about a renewed determination in him to get clean. The rhythmic automatic action helped focus his mind down. There were a lot of things he couldn’t face right now. Thoughts of tomorrow loomed threateningly. But this, washing, was something he _could_ do.

The water sloshed as he hauled himself about in an attempt to scrub his back. He could still feel the brute’s stinking breath and the idea that his sweat might have permeated his clothes made him shudder and scrub harder. He grabbed the brush by the side of the tub and pressed the soap firmly into the bristles before scratching it down his spine.

There was an edge of pain to the action but that only spurred Oswald on. He needed to remove every inch of skin that had come in contact with his assailant. If he could destroy every reminder then he would be able to forget it.

“Boss!”

Zsasz’s voice once again snapped Penguin back to reality and he dropped the brush in his surprise. His watery eyes turned with fearful hesitation to his loyal assassin before blinking back to a semblance of himself.

“What is it?” He tried for biting but couldn’t hold the tremor from his voice. “I’m taking a bath.”

“Yeah. I know that.” Zsasz’s dry retort helped calm Oswald’s stuttering heartbeat. “But it’s been over an hour. You must be done by now.”

“No… I’m… I still have…”

“Boss, the water’s getting cold. You can finish washing tomorrow. Ivy’s worried that you need tea and sleep.”

“Tea, yes,” Oswald muttered, images flickering in his mind of all the times his mother made him tea. “There’s no cure like a cup of tea.”

“Exactly,” Zsasz agreed immediately. “So up you get. I’ll fetch a towel.”

As Zsasz moved across the room Oswald managed to grip the bath edges and lever himself upright. His legs seemed shakier than usual and he hesitated about climbing out. Instead he stood and let his eyes float across the scummy surface of the water. All the blood and dirt swirling there was comforting. If it was in the water then it was no longer on him.

“You need a hand?”

He nodded mutely in response, gaze still hypnotised by the changing patterns in the water. The towel was immediately draped round his shoulders and he winced at the feel of textured cloth against his sore back. Then Zsasz was grasping his arm firmly and waiting to support him as he stepped out.

Oswald took a shuddering breath and grimaced as he raised his damaged leg first. He almost fell when he repeated the action with the other but Zsasz had quick reflexes and caught him about the waist immediately. However the action sent a wave of panic through Penguin and he then almost fell as he pushed the assassin from him.

Zsasz stepped back without comment and only hesitated a moment while he watched to make sure Penguin wasn’t about to collapse.

“I’ll get your pyjamas,” he offered once he was satisfied.

Left alone, Oswald pulled the plug and watched emotionlessly as the bath emptied out. Perhaps he should be like that. Less influenced by his emotions. Maybe he too should let them all flow out of him.

“You alright?”

Oswald turned back to offer a bland smile to Zsasz, silently accepting the proffered clothes.

“Of course,” he finally decided. “I’m perfectly fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

Oswald hesitated outside the Iceberg Lounge. Had it really only been twenty four hours since he was last here? It felt like a lifetime ago.

“You don’t have to do this Boss.”

He turned to Zsasz with a bright and plainly false smile plastered to his face.

“Nonsense. This is my club and I intend to ensure its being run appropriately.”

So saying he pushed open the door and stepped determinedly inside. That determination carried him until he came into sight of the huge frozen sculpture and more particularly the space just before it. Patrons obligingly avoided interrupting him as he stopped and stared, apparently deep in thought.

His mind was surprisingly blank though as what he was seeing jarred against fiercely withheld memory. He couldn’t stop his eyes searching for incriminating evidence. Panic began to rise as his gaze swept back and forth, looking for any hint that someone might pick up on. Any clue that might let inquisitive people in on his secret. There mustn’t be so much as a stray hair left.

“I had the cleaners do an intensive deep clean,” Zsasz whispered. “Not even GCPD forensics could find anything now.”

Oswald’s initial reassurance fractured at the mention of forensics and his eyes immediately rose up to where they always went when he entered his club. To Edward. The only other witness to his shame. Oswald swallowed hard.

What would Ed think of it? He was disgusted by Oswald before this, how much worse would he feel now? Revulsion. Loathing. Utter disdain for the pathetic snivelling fag not strong enough to even defend himself. Any respect Ed had felt for Penguin as a criminal would surely be undone by this further proof of his weakness.

“Boss?”

The questioning tone broke his spiralling thoughts and he turned to blink blankly at Zsasz before remembering where he was. Ashamed of his lapse, he lurched towards the bar, keeping his eyes firmly averted from the room’s centre piece.

“Whiskey,” he demanded. “A double.”

The bartender nodded and quickly moved to comply. Zsasz followed and hovered at Penguin’s elbow waiting to see if he’d respond to his implicit enquiry or not. He waited patiently as the drink arrived and was downed.

“Bring me another.”

Zsasz sighed inwardly. He had nothing against people drinking. It didn’t matter to him if they chose to drown their sorrows or drink until comatose. However it was his job to escort Penguin through this visit and he was the one who’d carry the blame if he let them pass the evening without checking up on business.

“I’ll go upstairs and fetch the books,” he suggested. “Then you can check them here or at home.”

He received no verbal response but a swift nod to indicate the suggestion had at least been agreed.

Oswald stared at his second drink as it was put in front of him. The temptation to keep on drinking until everything faded from his mind was strong but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of condemnation emanating from behind him.

He was supposed to be stronger than this. That was what Edward had come to him expecting. A strong man capable of showing him how to be all that he could be. And how had that turned out for them? Oswald had panicked as soon as Ed started showing signs of wanting his independence. He hadn’t been strong enough then to let him go and he hadn’t been strong enough now either.

Ed would have been better off without him. He could have been happy with his lookalike girlfriend instead of being humiliated as a public spectacle. It served Oswald right that Ed had gotten to see him get his own comeuppance.

“Penny for them?”

The suave voice shocked him and he started, glancing up to his side to see a chiselled blond smiling at him. Well built, he exuded a confidence that made Oswald’s skin begin to crawl. He hastily looked away, realising with alarm that there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

“They’re not for sale,” he ground out.

“Well then, maybe I could offer you something else? A distraction perhaps?”

The hand landing on his arm was gentle but may as well have been a ten ton weight as far as Oswald was concerned. He wrenched his arm away and staggered off the stool, breath coming faster despite himself.

“No.” He had intended the refusal to come out harsh and firm but was horrified to hear it sounded broken, even to his own ears.

The man held his hands palm up placatingly.

“Okay. Just asking.”

“Well don’t!” Oswald felt his pulse race as the flight or fight instinct began to kick in. His retreat and snapped response drew more attention to them and he suddenly recognised there were a number of eyes watching him. Panic began to surge through him again, fierce and uncontrollable. They must be able to see it on him. They would know what happened. How pathetic he was. Then he’d lose everything. The empire he’d fought so hard for would crumble all because of his uselessness.

His eyes landed on Zsasz making his way down the stairs opposite and he darted towards him, forcing his way through the crowds. He regretted the decision instantly though as he felt so many warm bodies jostling around him. The room seemed so much hotter in the midst of all these people. He could hardly catch his breath and he pushed at people harder to clear some space for him to move.

“Zsasz,” he gasped, finally within touching distance. He grasped onto the assassin’s arm like a lifeline. “Get me out of here.”

A flicker of concern crossed Zsasz’s normally placid face before he nodded briskly.

“Sure thing.”

Moments later he had an arm firmly wrapped about Penguin’s shoulders and was shoving his own way towards the exit.

“Make way folks,” he suggested. “Time is money and all that jazz.”

It only took seconds to reach the outside, no-one really being of a mood to hinder them, and Zsasz immediately pulled open the car door for his boss. Oswald practically dove in and by the time Zsasz had gone round and got in the other side he was huddled against the darkened window, making himself as small and unobtrusive as possible.

“Home?” the driver asked.

“Yeah,” Zsasz confirmed.

He dutifully didn’t notice the silently shaking shoulders along from him.


	4. Chapter 4

He refused to leave the mansion. Some days he even refused to leave his bedroom. Ivy did her best; talking to him mindlessly, bringing him food, or suggesting more herbal remedies. His reaction varied from catatonic to eerily polite.

The rage has gone out of him though. Even when she deliberately tried to provoke his anger, all it got her was drifting silence. It always made her feel worse too when she’s been shouting at him about ‘what would his mother think?’ only to see a hollow empty look in return.

Zsasz didn’t try to make an emotional connection. He focused himself on keeping the business running and maintaining a semblance of routine. So when Ivy arranged breakfast, he ran through the day’s activities. Sometimes he only wanted to ensure there were no objections – which Penguin never seemed to make anymore – but occasionally he did try to encourage more involvement.

Offering to bring a dissenter round for personal punishment only resulted in a firm shake of the head and the comment that Zsasz would be far better dealing with it himself. Even just a suggestion of a drive out to show his face hadn’t met with success. When at the end of the day Zsasz returned with his report, he may as well have been talking to the wall.

However Oswald’s blank façade collapsed during the night. He never talked to either Zsasz or Ivy about the vision that terrorised him but they could piece together enough from his screams and whimpers.

It was as if he’d been dosed with Crane’s fear toxin all over again.

The general details may have varied but the focus of the nightmare was the same every time. He’s in the Iceberg Lounge – sometimes alone, sometimes surrounded by uncaring crowds – when he feels the wash of icy air flow over him. He turns to look, knowing what he’ll see but nevertheless surprised each time. There, glittering with icy crystals, tinged blue and looking more dead than alive, is Ed.

Oswald is ironically frozen to the spot, unable to move as Edward drags his stiff form towards him. When Oswald tries to retreat he is held immobile because of arms holding him in place. The phantom feel of a body pressed to his back, arms tightening their sweaty embrace making him gag.

All he can do is stare wide eyed as the Riddler sneers down at him, looking so much taller than he ever remembered.

 _“You disgust me.”_ His cold eyes convey his contempt, bringing tears to Oswald’s eyes. _“To think you thought I could ever love you. You’re pathetic._

Oswald raises his hands in mute appeal, only to feel his captor dragging him backwards, away from Ed. He cries out in alarm and distress only to hear mocking laughter in return.

_“Its what you deserve.”_

Some nights he awakens then, panting and screaming, caught up in his blankets. Other times the dream holds him fast, just as his rapist does, forcing every action upon him once more in his subconscious. Those times he awakes drenched in sweat and gagging over the side of his bed.

Tears fall unnoticed from his eyes either way and he curls himself up into an awkward ball on top of the covers, shivering in the cool air of the mansion.

Ivy would always join him and drape a thin sheet over him to keep him from catching too much of a chill. She talked to him vaguely, long since having accepted he wouldn’t talk about what happened, and waited until he’s asleep again before returning to her own room. Occasionally he awoke several times a night. She went to him each time he did with the same equanimity. He didn’t need her to make him feel guilty for disturbing her night’s too and she could always catch up on her sleep during the day.

As the days passed though it was clear something had to give. Oswald was coping less and less well. There were permanent purple bags under his eyes and a haunted look in his gaze. If anything it got worse as he became increasingly aware of the burden he was placing upon Zsasz and Ivy. He knew how much they were shouldering on his behalf and the thought of his uselessness curled unpleasantly in his stomach.

Ultimately, it was his own suggestion that finally broke the delicate routine.

It was another evening, when Zsasz was reporting on the activities from the Lounge and Oswald was drifting, worrying about what horrors the night would bring, that the idea appeared fully formed in his head.

“Victor?” He was completely unaware of whether he was interrupting or whether Zsasz was silently awaiting a response. Either way the other man replied immediately.

“Yes boss?”

“I want you to do something for me.”

“Sure.” Even Zsasz couldn’t mask his relief at the interaction, simple though it might be. “What do you want?”

The word struck Oswald momentarily silent. Want. It had been a long time since he remembered wanting something but yes, he did want this.

“I need you to find Fries,” he said slowly.

“Fries? What for?”

Oswald stared into the flames and wondered at the fact he couldn’t feel any warmth from it.

“I want him to release Ed.”

A long silence followed this statement. Ordinarily Oswald might have been frustrated but right now the delay didn’t seem to matter terribly much.

“Release him boss? You know he’s likely to be pissed at you. I doubt he’ll appreciate the generosity and let bygones be bygones.”

“That’s not important,” Oswald murmured, more to the flames than to Zsasz. “He haunts my dreams. I have to do something.”

Another silence dragged between them. Penguin waited.

“Alright,” Zsasz finally agreed. “I think it’s a bad idea but I’ll get it done. And I’ll stay here at the mansion once he’s out. Make sure he doesn’t get a chance to retaliate.”

Oswald nodded vaguely, not really bothered about the details but comforted slightly to know he would be doing something about his most scathing audience. Maybe his dreams this night would not be so violent. Perhaps also, he might look forward to some peaceful rest in his future.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a new tension throughout the mansion once Fries reported he had successfully defrosted Riddler. True to his word, Zsasz stayed close and then took to patrolling the grounds. However he couldn’t be there twenty four hours a day, not if Penguin’s empire wasn’t to collapse which seemed a likelier outcome every day. Ivy heightened her own monitoring of Oswald, developing the habit of dropping in to check on him at random times, especially when Zsasz was out.

The only one who conversely seemed more relaxed was Oswald himself. He still remained overall unresponsive but whereas before he would flinch at sudden noises or gestures, now he stayed calm and placid. If anything this behaviour only worried his friends more. And the night terrors had not ceased with his act of charity towards Riddler. It was still routine to hear his screams in the dead of night.

It was not a nightmare that woke him this time though.

The dream was progressing as usual; the cold air gusting over him, the immobility, the cruel biting words… but then before he could scream for pity, the lurching figure had reached out and grabbed him viciously. Oswald had gasped, feeling the locked arms encircling him break open as he fell forward suddenly off balance.

It was the shock of hitting the floor that woke him. He continued to gasp as he struggled to piece together where he was and what had happened. Then a foot shoved into his side, pushing him over onto his back. Blinking upward he found himself staring into the fiery eyes of Edward Nygma.

As well as down the barrel of a pistol pointing straight at his head.

“I wanted you awake for this.” Ed’s voice was pitched low, though whether for effect or to avoid attracting the other occupants Oswald didn’t know. He simply nodded in understanding.

“Of course,” he agreed eyes welling up at the sight of the other man alive and well.

The response confused Riddler momentarily before he rallied himself.

“I’m going to kill you Oswald.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

It took him a second to realise Ed’s alarmed look was because he’d started smiling. It surprised him as well to finally feel that urge again after what felt like so long.

“You can’t talk your way out of this.” Riddler lifted the gun again and cocked it. “But if you have any last words I’ll hear them now.”

Oswald was about to shake his head when he hesitated. He hadn’t thought he had anything that needed to be said but now, faced with Ed, he couldn’t help but remember the last time the man had shot him. If Oswald had any final wish it would be to ensure Edward didn’t feel burdened with that guilt again. However he didn’t want Ed to know this wasn’t entirely his own idea.

“I always wanted it to be you,” he said carefully, satisfied the words were not too revealing.

Ed nodded as if the words were exactly what he expected to hear and aimed the gun again.

Oswald couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped him as he let his eyes shut.

Which was why he didn’t see the puzzled frown appear on Riddler’s brow.

Edward had expected Oswald to try and talk his way out of this. He’d expected Penguin to have guards and traps at hand for intruders. Yet he’d basically walked into the house unhindered and got Oswald right where he wanted him and the other man seemed…resigned. Riddler stalked forward and pressed the barrel directly onto Oswald’s forehead. He didn’t even flinch.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?”

The question brought Oswald’s eyes open again and this close Edward could see every emotion in them. Desperate longing was certainly there but not for him this time.

“You _want_ to die?” The realisation shook Ed to his core. What could have possibly happened to bring Oswald to this? He thought he’d seen the man at his absolute lowest and, while he’d been ready to give up on many things, he’d never before been ready to give up on life.

Tears finally pooled in Oswald’s eyes.

“Please,” he asked brokenly. “Please Ed. It has to be you. No-one else deserves to kill me so much as you.”

Ed automatically pulled the gun away from the tearful man before him.

“No.”

The simple answer was too much for Oswald who started sobbing openly. He curled down on his side and cried despairingly. He wrapped his arms up round his head in some futile attempt to hide his weakness.

Edward didn’t know what to do. He thought he’d come here to kill Oswald but seeing him like this was tearing at his heart. Awkwardly he knelt down, hastily tucking the gun out of reach in his waistband. He reached out and tried to pry Oswald’s arms loose.

“Oswald,” he murmured. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Oswald struggled against his efforts.

“You’ll hate me,” he stuttered between sobs. “More than… you already do… I won’t be worth… you won’t even… want to look at me… Don’t touch me!”

Ed sighed in frustration and momentarily halted his gentle attempts to untangle him.

“Oswald Cobblepot!” He took advantage of Oswald’s momentary surprise at his tone to grab his arms and pull them down and towards him. “You will always mean more to me than anyone else.” He forced Oswald to meet his eyes, holding him too tightly to be comfortable but unwilling to let him escape now. “You were my best friend.” His voice broke on the word and he swallowed hard. “You still _are_ my best friend.” He offered a wry smile. “Which probably says something about my ability to make friends.”

Oswald couldn’t help a slight laugh but it immediately broke the momentary control he’d regained and he broke down into tears again. This time however he fell into Edward and buried his tear stained face into the shoulder of his green jacket. Edward reacted instinctively and wrapped his arms tightly around the shuddering form sheltering against him.

Desperate hands clutched at his lapels as if silently begging him not to leave. Edward had to swallow down his own emotions again and started rocking him gently.

“I won’t leave you Ozzie,” he murmured. He felt Oswald’s answering wracked breath and couldn’t help but place a comforting kiss into his messy hair. It was unlikely Oswald would have felt it through his own continuing crying.

Edward held him until he cried himself to sleep. Then he tucked him back into the bed and, after a moment’s thought, settled himself on the covers next to him. He continued to watch him with worried eyes until sleep at last claimed him too.


	6. Chapter 6

It was Ivy’s scream that awoke everyone the next morning and brought Zsasz running. Ed had barely managed to sit up and recall where he was when he found himself staring almost crossed eyed at two pistols aiming right at his head.

“No!” Oswald lurched upright from his tangle of blankets, positioning himself between Ed and Zsasz.

More than the defensive act, it was the sound of genuine emotion in his voice that caused the assassin to hesitate and he lowered his guns slightly.

“Boss?”

“Don’t shoot,” Oswald pleaded, voice still hoarse and face still red from his tears in the night. “I invited him here.”

“What?” Ivy interrupted. “But he wants you dead!”

“No,” Ed corrected, licking his lips at the red head’s sudden attention. “If I wanted Oswald dead I’d have killed him by now.”

“Man’s got a point,” Zsasz conceded, dropping his guns back to his sides.

“Then what are you doing here?” Ivy demanded, glaring venomously.

“I’m here to help.” Ed cast an inquisitive look to Oswald, silently asking if he was over stepping. The other man kept his own gaze firmly on the bed linen, seemingly worn out already. When it became clear no-one else was going to say anything further Ivy rolled her eyes with an irritated huff.

“Fine,” she declared stomping across to the bed. “But don’t expect me to bring _you_ breakfast.”

Ed finally noticed the tray she was carrying as she angrily shoved it onto the bedside table. With one final warning glance at him she then stalked out of the room. Zsasz watched all this with barely concealed amusement and then mock saluted the pair.

“Holler if you need anything,” he added as he made his own way out of the room.

Ed waited until the door was shut before looking again at Oswald. The man looked shrunken, eyes averted and energy gone. It was clear he hadn’t been eating properly given the way his pyjamas were hanging on him and reminded Ed forcibly of the time he’d first taken Penguin into his home.

With that thought in mind he reached his long arms over and brought the tray to rest between them. Ivy had brought buttered toast, yogurt and a glass of juice.

“You should eat some of this.”

He picked up the plate of toast and held it out. Oswald looked at it as if he honestly couldn’t remember what he was supposed to do with it. Then he cautiously picked up a slice and brought it to his lips. Ed waited patiently as Oswald held it there, not biting but simply holding it. Then finally, he took a small bite off the corner.

“That’s better.” Ed smiled.

The praise obviously encouraged Oswald because he quite deliberately took another bite. It was clear he didn’t really want to eat but was willing to if it was what Ed wanted. The realisation of that made Ed feel an unfamiliar twist in his stomach. Things between him and Oswald had never exactly been simple but right now he hadn’t a clue what was going on. All he could do was focus on the little steps and ignore whatever the bigger picture showed.

He sat quietly while Oswald methodically ate his piece of toast. When the first half was done though and he was staring indecisively at the second, Ed decided it was time to take another step.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he said softly. “I want to help.”

“You can’t help,” Oswald whispered, more to the bedspread than Edward. “And I don’t want to drive you away.”

Edward hesitated. He’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t good at dealing with emotional situations. So he approached it the only way he knew how, with logic.

“If I can’t help,” he enunciated slowly, “then there’s no reason for me to stay.”

Oswald’s gaze flew to him instinctively with a look of panic.

“But if there might be something I can do… if you’ll talk to me…”

He left the implication out there and waited. Oswald had looked away again, this time staring across the room seemingly at nothing. Ed waited patiently.

“I was attacked.” Oswald swallowed audibly. “At the Lounge.”

There was a noticeable pause and Ed frowned. There had to be more to it than that. Oswald had been through more beatings than anyone else he knew and always come out the stronger.

“You were there,” Oswald continued quietly. “Watching.”

“I had no awareness while I was in the ice,” Ed explained. “I didn’t see or hear anything.”

Oswald nodded vaguely next to him but remained silent. Ed took a chance and rested his hand on where Oswald’s was picking at the fibres on the bed.

“Oswald? Please tell me. What happened?”

“I was attacked.”

Edward almost sighed in frustration at the repetition until he noted the sudden trembling under his palm. Glancing sideways at Oswald’s face he could see tears breaking free again.

“It was never meant to be like that.” The words came out in a gasp as Oswald’s breathing hitched uncontrollably. “I always thought… I wanted… When I met you…”

The words made no sense as Oswald kept starting and breaking off. Edward clasped his hand tighter.

“What Oswald? What wasn’t meant to be like that?”

“My… my first time.”

Oswald’s other hand pressed over his face, doing little to hide the sobs wracking his frame again. Ed sat immobile as the words and their implication filtered through his mind. He couldn’t even move to comfort the man whose entire being was shattering beside him. For a long while his own words wouldn’t come.

“Oswald,” he spoke quietly, possibly too quietly given the way Oswald was crying but he daren’t speak the words any louder. “Were you raped?”

The question drew a sudden shuddering breath out of Oswald, breaching through his attempts to hide the truth despite his desperate need to share. He couldn’t draw enough breath to answer but Edward deserved to know the truth. Oswald couldn’t let the man he loved demean himself any further by associating with him.

Awkwardly but insistently he nodded, one hand still covering his sight while the other remained trapped, soaking up the last warmth he could ever hope to feel from Ed.

The last thing he expected was to be wrenched around and pulled into the man’s arms. He gasped into the fabric of his jacket, eyes snapping open in surprise. The embrace was insistent and firm, showing no sign of releasing him any time soon.

“I am so sorry Oswald.”

Ed’s voice sounded broken too. All Oswald could do was collapse against him and continue sobbing.


	7. Chapter 7

They stayed in bed, not really talking but simply basking in the comfort of being near each other. Edward didn’t know how to deal with someone suffering from the trauma Oswald was but hoped his soft reassuring touches helped. He deliberately didn’t ask any further questions but waited quietly in case Oswald wanted to talk.

Ivy returned at lunchtime with a new tray and Edward was touched to see that, despite her earlier aggression, she had in fact brought food enough for two. Her eyes met his as she once more set the tray down and he understood her look with surprising ease.

_Help him._

He made sure Oswald was looking down at the tray before subtly nodding back to her. When they were alone again he gestured for Oswald to pass the tray and was pleased to see him comply almost eagerly. He focused on splitting the sandwiches between them and corralled his thoughts while Oswald began eating. It would be a lie to say he didn’t make the most of the excuse of letting him eat to avoid broaching the difficult topic but eventually he knew he had to.

“Oswald?”

The smaller man looked up at him expectantly and Edward’s carefully planned speech disappeared at the trusting look.

“I don’t know what I can say to make this any better,” he confessed.

Oswald gaze dropped away again.

“I told you. You can’t make this better. The fact you haven’t left yet-”

Edward couldn’t stop himself at that and caught at Oswald’s hand, inadvertently crushing the sandwich he was still holding.

“I am not leaving you,” he declared. “Not now. Not ever again.”

He winced slightly at his own desperate tone and tried to disguise it as a grimace of distaste for the mess of bread and peanut butter left in his hand.

“Thank you Edward. I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

Edward forgot about the sandwich as his ear caught the self-derogatory tone.

“If you’re saying that because you froze me… well, I think we can call that even now. After all I shot you first-”

“For killing your girlfriend,” Oswald interrupted.

“Yes,” Ed agreed, for once barely concerned with that particular loss. “And you had Fries revive me. I’d say we’re even.”

He watched with dismay as Oswald’s eyes dimmed and he shook his head.

“We’re not equal,” Oswald disagreed. “We can never be equal again. I’m…” he broke off, unable to voice his own disgust and loathing.

“Oswald. If you’re suggesting for one second that what happened to you makes you any less of a person then I’m surprised at you. You were a victim of abuse, yes, but that doesn’t make you weak.”

“I was though! I couldn’t stop him Ed! I _tried_.” Tears flooded his eyes again but this time he brushed them away angrily. “I fought so _hard_ and still couldn’t-”

He turned his face away, clearly irritated with himself for getting emotional again. Ed took a chance and caught his chin, albeit gently, to make him face him again.

“Let me ask you something Oswald. Which one of you is still alive now?”

It was a risk on Ed’s part to ask because he could not be certain of the answer. However he was willing to bet Zsasz or Ivy would have acted even if Oswald hadn’t been able to. Oswald sighed.

“Me,” he answered.

Edward grinned triumphantly.

“You may have lost the battle then but certainly not the war.”

Oswald pulled away.

“That’s not the point,” he snapped. “I’m despoiled. I can still feel… _I’m_ disgusted by me. How can you say you aren’t?”

Edward took a moment to look at him. He knew Oswald meant what he said. The challenge was to make him see Ed did too.

“What happened to you,” he spoke carefully, “was a violation. Of course you feel desecrated. But it hasn’t changed who you are. Not really. You’re still the indomitable man I first met.”

“Not so indomitable,” Oswald huffed.

Edward tilted his head to one side.

“Do you remember when I found you in the woods?” It was a redundant question and he didn’t wait for an answer. “You felt broken then. Wounded in a way you didn’t think you’d ever recover from. But you _did_. And you will again.”

“That was all down to you,” Oswald admitted.

“And I’ll help you again.”

“Why?” Oswald caught his gaze. “Before you had something to gain. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Why would you help me now?”

“Because…” A million answers tumbled through Ed’s mind and he hesitated, knowing a wrong response now would ruin everything between them. He stared into Oswald’s worried eyes hoping to see his answer there. To his surprise he did.

“Because I love you.”

It was so simple when he realised it, he wondered how it was it had taken him so long to admit it. Oswald however wasn’t amused by the reply.

“I don’t need your _pity_ Nygma,” he spat.

“It’s not pity! It’s the truth!”

“Oh really?” Oswald turned back to him and Ed was thrilled to see the old fire burning in his eyes. “Then how is it I wasn’t worthy of your love before – when I was literally willing to die for you – and now I’m scarred and broken I suddenly am?”

“Because it was too much before!” Edward shot back, giving himself no time to dissimulate, simply saying what he honestly felt. “You were everything Oswald. And you gave and gave. And I was nothing! I couldn’t offer you anything.”

“You could have offered me the only thing I wanted,” Oswald’s voice cracked on the last word and his face crumpled. “All I wanted was you Ed.”

Edward sighed and dropped his gaze, once more taking Oswald’s hands in his.

“I didn’t think that was enough,” he answered apologetically. “I’m sorry Oswald. If I’d been braver…” he sighed and gave up on that line of thought. “The truth is I was intimidated. You have such high standards. In everything. I didn’t think I could ever measure up. I certainly couldn’t equal your easy show of emotions and…” His voice dropped to a whisper but he had to say it. “I knew I’d be your first and I was scared I’d take you to bed and you’d realise… I wasn’t good enough.”

A broken laugh brought his gaze back up to Oswald’s tearful face.

“Well, at least you won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Ed felt his own tears run down his cheeks and this time he buried his face on Oswald’s shoulder as they sought each other’s embrace again.


	8. Chapter 8

There are no quick fixes but there are gradual restorations.

That first day, they made no attempt to leave the bedroom. It was the first peaceful quiet they’d each had in a long time. It was unspoken that their future would have to be built gradually, testing each new understanding between them before proceeding to the next. For now it was enough that they agreed on the direction to take.

By the time Ivy came in with dinner they were discussing cartoons of all things. It was irrelevant and childish but also safe and untroubled by adult concerns. She arched an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, happy to see Oswald enthusiastic about something, even if it was only Pepé le Pew. They fell asleep wrapped up in blankets with the cartoon channel still playing in the background.

The next day Ed encouraged Oswald to move into the sitting room. He made no comment about him staying in his pyjamas and once there Ed was quick to drag Ivy into their previous discussion about which cartoon characters were best. Zsasz popped in once or twice, bringing snacks and take away food, and throwing in obscure kids TV references.

Oswald found the world outside his bedroom wasn’t the scary place it had seemed only a few days before. Between Ivy and Edward he was never left alone and neither appeared to be judging him in any way. In fact they each seemed happy to be spending time with him. It made his eyes well up more than once.

He showered the next morning, and pulled on some fresh clothes before hastily changing his mind. The jacket felt too restrictive and he quickly put it back on its hanger. His eye then fell on the pile of laundry Ed had dragged in from his old bedroom. In amongst the fashionable outfits he’d bought his Chief of Staff were a few of Ed’s casual sweaters. He hesitantly pulled one on, holding the neck to his nose in hope of catching Ed’s scent. Impossible after so long of course but he still felt comforted wearing the baggy top.

When he tentatively stepped into the dining room he received surprised looks from both Ed and Ivy. Ed’s face then melted into an obviously fond smile and Oswald relaxed.

In the days following that he took to wearing something of Ed’s, drawing comfort from the familiarity of the style. Which meant when Ed suggested he pick up the reigns of his criminal rule once more, he didn’t utterly panic.

While he’d been out of the limelight for almost a month, it wasn’t actually long enough that he’d lost control. Zsasz had been emphatic about reminding people of Penguin’s reach and although there were rumours of him losing his touch, no-one was actually convinced enough to act on them.

Ed’s plan was simple and logical. There was no question of Oswald returning to the Iceberg Lounge yet and Ed saw no necessity for that. If anything, he thought it would demonstrate more force if Oswald summoned everyone to the mansion. Reminding them that they answered to his call, not the other way around. That way Oswald need not leave the perceived safety of his home. Zsasz and Ivy would naturally both be on hand for protection should the need arise.

Riddler would also be in attendance. It would kill two birds with one stone if Oswald announced his absence was due to business dealings with him and also that in future Riddler should be expected to act as Penguin’s right hand man. That would allow Ed to act as proxy giving Oswald more time to come to terms with what had happened.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t anxious over the proposition though. Not from the underlings but from Oswald. It would be a leap of faith after all. He was asking Penguin to nominate him with power to act as he saw fit in his name. That was a lot of trust to place in someone especially from someone like Oswald.

Oswald however hadn’t even flinched at the suggestion. It was Ed who worried about it, asking again and again if Oswald was sure he wanted to do this.

“Ed,” Penguin finally snapped minutes before the meeting as he fumbled trying to fix his cufflinks. “Will you stop trying to talk me out of it. I was willing to share everything I had with you years ago and I’m still willing now. I trust you. Now will you help me with these blasted things!”

Ed’s mouth snapped shut even as his hands moved automatically to help Oswald finish dressing. As he smoothed out the jacket and brushed off the shoulders he scanned Oswald’s anxious face.

“You are the bravest person I know Oswald,” he said.

“I’m not brave. I’m terrified,” Oswald admitted, keeping his gaze locked on his reflection.

Ed caught his hands in his and held them tenderly until Oswald looked up to him.

“That’s why you’re brave,” he told him gently. “Not because you don’t fear but because you do. And not just physical pain but emotional too.” Ed dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “All the times I must have broken your heart and here you are, despite everything, still letting me in.”

“I can’t help that.” Oswald smiled tremulously. “You’ve held my heart for a long time now Ed. All I could ever do was hope you’d be careful with it.”

Ed felt his own heart aching with the reminder and he stepped forward to kiss Oswald’s forehead before wrapping his arms around him cautiously. While Oswald enjoyed being close to him, there were still times he instinctively flinched away from physical contact. The last thing Ed wanted to do before this meeting was stress him any further. To his relief though, Oswald relaxed into his arms.

“Ed?”

The timid voice made him tense though and he released his grip enough to be able to look at Oswald again. Oswald however wasn’t meeting his gaze.

“Would you do something for me? Before I have to face them.”

“Of course. Anything for you Oswald.”

The nervous gaze raised up to meet his earnest eyes.

“Would you kiss me?”

He almost wasn’t sure he’d heard the quiet request right. So far they hadn’t moved beyond friendly interactions but it was clear from Oswald’s nervousness that he meant something a little more intimate. And Ed wasn’t going to deny him if that was what he wanted.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he replied, cupping Oswald’s head gently and tilting his face to his.

The kiss wasn’t intense. There were no fireworks or sudden adrenaline surges. But it was honest. A promise of how things should be between them. Both giving an equal amount even as they received the same in return.

“I love you,” Ed whispered against the soft lips beneath his. He felt Oswald sigh.

“As I do you.” There was a new sparkle in Penguin’s eyes as he opened them. “Now let’s go remind these dogs who the true Kings of Gotham are.”


End file.
